Well,my love. It’s been nineteen long months since you went home.
I’ve missed you more than I could ever have imagined, and at so many unexpected moments. Even now, as I write this, it’s a little difficult to see because of the tears.

It’s crazy. So many little things have changed.

I don’t have a home with you any more. Instead, I have bedrooms: two in the US, one in Natal, Brazil, and one I look forward to in heaven.

I still have difficulty when I roll over on my right side in bed: you aren’t there any more to cuddle me… and there are those times I’ve felt your presence in the room. A few times I’ve been awakened by you calling my name. Things I don’t understand – and give them to God.

I am only now beginning to settle down in my mind what are my priorities and goals. It’s not been simple like you and I thought it would be. Too many changes we had not anticipated. Maybe, now, I will move into a more quiet and trusting relationship with our Lord.

You always said you had to go home first. You did not want to walk with the pain of being left behind…but, in reality, we were both hoping the Lord would come before either one went home. You were right about going home first. I’m thankful you aren’t going through this time of grief and learning. What makes it feasible for me to handle it is knowing that you are TRULY happy, for the first time in your life. A joy and happiness no one can rob from you.

I look forward to the day when I’ll be home also. Until then, my love, I’ll keep walking with one hand on my cane, the other hand in our God’s hand, looking towards home.

I Love you. Your Voni

Thursday night, August 30 It’s 10:30 pm. The house is quiet. Lights are still on in some of the rooms. Sheryl and Hermilio may be asleep

I’m sitting in a recliner with my feet up and the lap-top in my lap. Sometimes my kids tell me that is the only position they see me in. I’ll have to admit it feels “natural” here. J As I write each day to leave something here on Facebook, sometimes I wonder if what I am writing has real value in your lives. Tonight, is one of those times. But I’m going to write the following because it is happening to me now… I don’t totally understand it – maybe some of you who have walked this path of grief before me will identify?

This past week, I’m having some “odd” moments.. and they are coming more often. It’s like a quiet breeze blowing gently through my mind. It happens so swiftly that I can only sense it – and the sweet peace that follows it. The only thing I can think is – God’s Spirit is touching me in new ways and He is changing me.

A crazy illustration –

I love to eat apples, especially when the core is removed, and the apple cut into 8 pieces. I munch on them slowly as I am writing, with a napkin handy in case I get juice on my fingers.

Joe and I did a verbal dance every day. At some time as I was writing or doing accounting or studying on my computer, he would say to me: “What can I get you?” I’d look up at him, grin and say “An apple ?”

He’d groan. I’d say “Well, you asked – don’t worry, I’ll fix me one later.” He’d respond “no, you won’t!” as he headed into our small kitchen. In a few moments, a cold and crisp apple, cored and quartered, was given to me on a small dish, along with a paper napkin. I’d stop what I was doing, we’d hug, then he’d go back to his desk and his computer, usually with a few pieces of my apple and we’d both contentedly munch on apple and work.

After Joe went to be with the Lord, I almost quit eating apples Today, 19 months later, I’m starting to eat apples again , Only now, it’s apples I have cut up the way I like.. It’s crazy – every time I fix myself an apple, I long for that man! But now, occasionally, while I’m eating that apple I prepared, a sweet breeze goes through my mind, and I find myself with a smile instead of tears. Please, Lord, may this happen more.

For every thing, there is a season Solomon – Ecclesiastes